


Sunrise

by oddlyqueer



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Post-Apocalypse, Alternate Universe - Robots & Androids, M/M, Robot Enjolras, Robot Mechanic Grantaire, Robot/Human Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-31
Updated: 2019-03-31
Packaged: 2019-12-30 03:46:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,839
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18307544
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oddlyqueer/pseuds/oddlyqueer
Summary: enj dies a little bit but only for a second, and it's not beta-read, so read at your own risk





	Sunrise

**Author's Note:**

  * For [vivelapluto](https://archiveofourown.org/users/vivelapluto/gifts).



> enj dies a little bit but only for a second, and it's not beta-read, so read at your own risk

He sighs, pulling on his gloves and snapping on the goggles he wears almost constantly. The piles of metal that sits in his room are annoyingly taunting him. He hasn’t had a new robot to fix in months, and he’s itching with the urge to build and to fix.

In the pile of old refrigerators and other kitchen stuff, he pores through pile after pile of junk. No robots, not even an arm.

A big crate creaks open, and he opens the door all the way. 

Inside is an android. A whole fucking android. He can’t believe his luck. It’s one of the more humanlike ones, one with hair and a pretty face. It’s an unfamiliar model, apparently, one of those old ones with solar panels and an AI in it. Picking it up bridal-carry style, he walks the robot back to the storage unit where he lives. 

Putting it down on the table, he looks at the chest plate screen. It’s an old model, and he doesn’t know how to boot this one up, so he just presses the button on the back of the robot’s neck and crosses his fingers. By some miracle, it works, and he sits the robot up as it awakens. Across the chest plate screen, there is a single word in a stylized yellow font:  _ Apollo _ .

The android sits up. It opens its eyes— his eyes?— and looks around, looking like it’s panicking somehow. “Where am I?” the robot says in a staticky, worried voice. “What’s happening?” It tries to get off the table, rushing towards the door.

“Shh, it’s okay, you’re safe,” Grantaire says, putting his hands on its shoulders. “You’re okay. I’m here. I’m fixing you. You were hurt, somebody shoved you into a box, but I picked you up and brought you back.”

“But— I— I’m—” It coughs, a broken electronic sound, and sits back on the table. “I don’t even know who you  _ are _ ! How can I be safe?”

“Well, my name’s Grantaire,” he says softly, helping it back onto the table. “Do you have a name? Do you want me to call you by a certain set of pronouns?”

“Um…” Its voice is soothing somehow, like an electronic voice probably should be. “I don’t know. I like ‘he’, I suppose.”

“I’ll just… call you Apollo. Your label says that’s your model, so that’s what I’ll do.”

“Apollo.” He tests the word in his mouth. “Yes. I like that name. And I like Grantaire, too. It’s a pretty name.”

Grantaire goes red. He digs through his pile of junk. “So, uh, you got anything broken that you want me to fix? Like, uh, I don’t know. Anything you need? I think I have some of your model’s parts somewhere in here.”

“My solar unit is broken,” Apollo says quietly. “The panel. I am on a 96% charge right now. It will last for approximately two weeks if I use it at a typical level.”

“Oh. Uh, I don’t think I have a solar panel in here,” he says, frowning at his pile of junk. “We’ll find one. We can get one from somewhere, maybe another defunct Apollo—”

“No. I don’t want to take it from someone else.”

“It’s just a robot, Apollo.”

“And am I just a robot?” Apollo snaps, sitting bolt upright. “Are you just a human? Would you feel right, if it was possible, to rip a heart from a corpse and put it into your chest?”

“Okay, jeez! Holy shit, dude, I’ll try to fix it!”

“Okay. Good.”

He sits back, looking at Apollo, who looks back at him with a defiant glare. Everything about Apollo is harsh. Cold, paper-white metal skin, bright blond synthetic hair, LED eyes. He’s all edges, and it would be scary in a human, but somehow it looks right on him.

“Are you going to fix me or what?” he says angrily, leaning back against the wall. 

— 

Apollo, wrapped in an old jacket of Grantaire’s and a pair of worn-out work boots, follows Grantaire through the piles of trash.

“Okay, uh, solar panel there, I’ll grab it. I dunno if it’ll fit you though. Kinda big.”

“Yes, it might be.” He looks at a pile of defunct robots, all Apollo models like him. They had the same facial structure, but not the same hair. Most had no hair at all.

“Hey. You okay?” He puts a hand on Apollo’s back. “Do you need a moment?”

“I don’t understand this emotion,” he says quietly. 

“You’re… I mean, it’s you. Not you, obviously, but they’re kind of like… I don’t know, your siblings or whatever. And they’re robot corpses.”

“I know, but… I don’t think I should be that emotional.” Apollo stares down at the pile of robots with an unreadable expression. “Let’s continue. We have only so much light in the day.”

— 

Apollo’s cleaning up as he gets a notification on his chest plate.  _ Battery lower than usual. Only 50% remaining. 6 days, 21 hours, and 10 minutes remaining.  _ Grantaire takes a deep breath and prepares himself to ask. 

“Apollo? You know about… like, human organ donation?”

“Yes, I am aware of the concept. If you’re about to ask if I am willing to think of taking a solar panel from another person as equivalent to organ donation, I reject the premise. See, when a human dies, their death is permanent, and thus they will never be able to use those organs again. Robot death is impermanent. They can always be revived. If I take something from them, it would be me who would kill them.”

Grantaire sighs. “But you're perfectly healthy aside from that! You'll be perfectly fine as soon as I can replace the panel, I'll just— I can get you a new one and you'll be fine and nothing bad will happen ever again—”

“No! I'll never take from another person! Especially not one who could live again!”

“But  _ you _ could live! You're dying, Apollo, you're going to die if I don't fix you!”

Apollo glares at him with dull eyes. He's dying, that much is obvious. His lights are dulling and his movements have gotten slower these last few days. Grantaire's been terrified of him suddenly dying for days on end now.

“Please just let me fix you, Apollo,” he says, voice cracking. “I need to fix you. You're going to die if I don't.”

“I can't. I can't let you kill someone else to save me.”

Grantaire scoffs at him. “Let's just drop it. I'll go out tomorrow morning. For now on, try to conserve your energy, okay? Your battery. I don't want it running out any faster.”

Apollo sighs and gets onto the fixing table, sitting down and powering off. Grantaire pulls a dusty blanket over him and brushes a stray lock of hair out of his eyes. 

“Sleep tight, Apollo,” he says, and gets into bed.

—

“Grantaire. Grantaire, wake up, please.”

There's something in his voice, an uncomfortable note of desperation that startles Grantaire out of sleep. His eyes are dulling, and it scares Grantaire, so he sits up, taking Apollo's hand. The artificial heater is turning off, and his hands are cold, colder than usual.

“Look.” 

He gestures to the screen.  _ Battery lower than usual. Only 10% remaining. 2 days, 16 hours, and 2 minutes remaining. _

“I'm dying soon. I'm going to die, Grantaire.” He looks absolutely terrified. “I don't want to die.”

“You— we have to fix you. I know it's unethical or whatever, but we have to take parts. We need to get you fixed, Apollo, I can't let you die—”

“Why not?!”

“Because I love you!” Grantaire screams, unable to take any more of it. “Because… because you're important. Because you need to be safe, because you're too good to die. You're kind and you're a humanitarian and you're so, so good to me, and—”

“I'm sorry, Grantaire.” He looks down at his feet. “I'll go now.”

“Wait, Apollo—” 

He's out the door before he can say another word.

— 

Grantaire sits there, staring at the combinations of solar panels and wires that he'd put together. All his own making. Cobbled together from parts from other Apollos. This is the second day he'd been gone. As the sun rises, Grantaire stares out the window, hoping beyond hope that Apollo would come back.

Nothing. Of course.

Sitting there with his makeshift solar panel, he hears a crash outside.

“Taire!” a wobbly voice cries out from outside. A soothing, electronic voice, one he knows all too well. He opens the door, dropping to his knees, the bright red message on his chest screen reading  _ Battery critically low. 1% battery remaining. 1 minute, 30 seconds remaining.  _

“No. Please, Apollo, I can fix you, I can fix you, please just stay awake,” he says, dragging him into the storage unit with shaking hands. Pushing him onto the table, he picks up the solar panel, cutting the wires quickly and extracting them.

“Taire… I…”

“Shh, it's okay, you're going to be okay,” he soothes, petting Apollo's hair gently as he works. “I'm gonna fix you.”

“No, Taire, I— just let me  _ say _ something,” he says, holding his hand tightly. “I— Taire, I—”

The battery dies. Apollo falls back with a metallic sound, and Grantaire drops the solar panel, hands shaking. 

“No,” he sobs, unable to continue. “Please.”

He knows nothing about this type of android. What if his memories are gone when he wakes up? What if repairing him is impossible? What if the solar panel does nothing at all?

Shaking his head, he sets to work once again, setting the wires into place and picking up Apollo. As he carries him outside, he feels the rising sun on his face, and looks over at Apollo. Miraculously, the screen is lit up once again. The bright yellow lettering, the word Apollo in stylized lettering across his chest.

“Apollo?”

He sits up. His eyes open. The LEDs blink to life. 

“Taire?”

Grantaire bursts into tears and throws his arms around Apollo, who puts a gentle hand on his back. 

“I'm so glad you're alive. I'm so, so glad I could fix you.”

“Thank you,” Apollo says. He detects what seems like a small sob. Can androids cry? It feels like Apollo's about to. “Grantaire, I— I said something, or started to before…”

“Yes? Go ahead.”

He looks almost hesitant. The AI is really skilled in this model, it's really humanlike.

“Taire, I love you.”

He gasps. “You—”

“And yes, I know, and androids aren't supposed to be able to love someone, but… I do love you, Grantaire, and I want to be here with you for— I don't know. I just know that I care about you.”

“I… I care about you, too.”

As the sun rises, warmth flowing down over the two of them, Grantaire puts an arm around Apollo and pulls him close. He places a hand gently on his knee, and Apollo leans his head on Grantaire's shoulder, and it's good. It's really, really good.

**Author's Note:**

> as always, comments and kudos are much appreciated!


End file.
